He felt his body harden.
Their coupling had been like a storm within a storm...their desire as hot and fierce and relentless as the wind. Jolted to the core by a hunger that had circled them for days, they’d touched and teased and tormented one another, changing position, losing themselves in the rhythm of their pounding hearts and hips, pausing to catch their breath or a few minutes’ sleep until need drove them on again, only stopping when their aching muscles and chafed skin had forced them to.
His groin twitched and he pressed his hand against the blunt end of his erection as if to stifle it. Delphi had been like quicksilver in his hands, white-hot, her body quivering and arching against his, her soft moans of pleasure sweeping over his skin like tiny dancing flames licking at the logs in a grate.
He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He hadn’t been able to taste her deeply enough. His desire had scraped him raw. Her desire had cut him loose and left him spinning, adrift in the dark of the barn.
And now, incredibly, he was aching for her again.
Gritting his teeth, he flicked the shower control to cold and, without flinching, let the freezing water course over his naked body.
Last night had unleashed more than that boiling, twitching hunger. Or perhaps it was more that unleashing it had swept away all the confusing detritus of their marriage, crumbling it into sand. And in that clean, uncluttered landscape it was easy to see that his previous assessment of his role in their marriage had been biased, not to say inaccurate.
He had always considered himself to be a civilised man, a good husband, a perceptive and attentive partner. But this morning, as they’d made their way back to the fort, he had been forced to rethink that assumption, and the truth was that he had behaved badly. Selfishly. Unkindly.
Instead of supporting her, he had hurt and confused her so badly that she had shut down, and he hated it that she’d felt that way—hated knowing that he had made her feel that way. For so long he had blamed her past for the obstacles that lay between them. But he had been equally to blame, if not more.
Delphi was right. Work was his obsession—an obsession she could see, anyway. And over time he had let it consume him, and bumped Delphi to the bottom of his agenda.
Remembering how he had taken that call from his father out in the sand school, he felt his face burn with shame. After weeks of separation, and months of being at odds with one another, they had finally been talking openly, honestly, about their marriage. Delphi had been holding his hand. The last thing he should have done was answer his phone, but he had reacted unthinkingly, ruthlessly turning his back on her, driven by a need that outweighed everything in his life—even his wife.
It hadn’t started out that way.
Meeting her at the Amersham, he had been smitten, mesmerised, and the fact that she had neither encouraged nor welcomed his attention had only cemented his desire to change her mind. He had dropped everything to pursue her.
She had become his new obsession.
Even now, picturing their wedding, he could feel the relief, the almost orgasmic ecstasy of a marathon runner crossing the finishing line first. But three days later, prompted by a phone call from his father, he’d cut short their honeymoon and flown off to secure yet another in a long line of empire-building deals.
And Delphi had returned home.
Alone.
All the time he’d been promising to be by her side, pressurising her to trust him, telling himself that he was taking care of her, protecting her from the world. But he had been the one hurting her. Jaw clenched, he dipped his head beneath the spray of water. He had spurred her on. But at the same time he’d leaned back and pulled on the reins.
He had confused her, and she had tried to save herself.
Like Alima, she had bucked, and then bolted.
And she would have bolted again yesterday, except the storm had made leaving impossible.
He switched off the shower and leaned forward, watching the water swirl down the plughole.
And now?
There was an ache in his chest that made it hard to catch his breath. The idea of her moving on and making a life without him was agonising. He wanted her to stay more than he had ever wanted anything, but if he wanted that to happen then the conversation he had started out in the sand school would have to be finished.
Only this time he would let nothing get in the way.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he took a breath and walked back into the bedroom. Delphi was standing on the balcony, and his pulse soared as she turned towards him. She had showered first and was still wearing his bathrobe, the sleeves rolled up, the hem grazing the floor. With her slightly damp hair and bare feet she looked incredibly sexy.
Her gaze rose to meet his, and a faint rose-coloured flush crept across her cheeks. ‘I was just looking outside. It’s like the storm never happened.’
He glanced past her at the cloudless blue sky. It was a perfect summer’s day. There was no reason Delphi couldn’t leave. What mattered, though, was giving her a reason to stay. The thought made his heart thump.
‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that something that intense doesn’t leave a trace?’
He saw her gaze move to where the towel clung snugly to his hips, and she frowned.